


The Third Week

by Kirithwen



Series: The Worst Month [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor!Castiel, M/M, bartender!gabriel, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16524041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirithwen/pseuds/Kirithwen
Summary: A boy's night out was supposed to be about brotherly bonding but Dean's month of bad luck continues...





	The Third Week

The third victim of Dean's worst month was Sam. He'd decided that Dean had issues and that it was his job to find out what the problem was. Unfortunately, Sam did not dedicate all of his significant intelligence to the situation at hand and decided that getting Dean drunk would be the best way to get him to open up. And, unluckily for Sam, the one piece of information that he neglected when formulating this plan was vital i.e. just how much of a tolerance to alcohol Dean had built up.

There were no two ways about it. Jess was going to murder them. Or possibly just Dean, she was as weak against Sammy's puppy dog eyes as he was.

The evening had started off well. Sam was playing it cool that he was trying to get Dean drunk enough to open up, unaware that his brother knew full well what he was up to. Dean launched his stealthy counter attack of getting Sam too drunk to carry out his plan. Both brothers were quietly confident that their respective schemes were working until about midnight at a karaoke bar. Halfway through a drunken rendition of Pearl Jam's "My Father's Son", a pretty wasted Sam came to the horrified realisation that he'd forgotten his motive in drinking over the last hour or so. One thought cut through his drunken haze, closely followed by a second: Dean was on to him and this had been his plan all along. Sam warbled his way to the end of the song then promptly signed Dean up for variety of songs by female artists as payback. 

Shortly after being called to the stage to discover he was expected to sing "Single Ladies", a significantly-more-sober Dean figured out that he'd been rumbled. And he had no plan B yet. 

When he got back from the stage, he found the bartender racking up 10 shots each.

"Dean! My bro, my man, my duuude. That was a truly -excellent- song man! Really, ahem, suits your voice!" Sam greeted him gleefully. 

"Ha fucking ha Sammy. What is this?" Dean asked, gesturing towards the shots.

"Shots!" Sam announced happily. 

"Yes, I-" Dean dropped his head into a hand briefly. "I can see that Sammy. Why are you suddenly doing shots?"

"We, Dean. Why are WE suddenly doing shots?"

"Okay. Why are WE suddenly doing shots?"

"I don't know, why ARE we suddenly doing shots?" Sam rebutted with a grin, being deliberately obtuse in a way that was childish and immature and irrefutably adorable. And he knew it.

"Aw jeez." Dean sighed, smothered his grin and resigned himself to his immediate future. He lifted the first shot and gestured for Sam to do the same. He winced as the tequila burned down his throat but quickly forgot it when he saw the face Sam pulled at the shot. Dean laughed so hard that Sam got the giggles too. 

Five shots in, he caught Sam switching his full shot glasses for Dean's empty ones.

"Hey hey hey! None of that!" He batted Sam's hand away, grumbling "Cheaty McFuckinCheater." It distracted him nicely from the bartender discreetly refilling his shots and winking at Sam. 

It wasn't for another few hours of singing and countless shots that either of the Winchesters realised just how completely the evening had gotten away from them. Dean looked at Sam and sobered up quite sharply at the state of his brother. 

"Come on Sammy. We're gonna go f'r a little walk. Get some air. It'ss gonna be good."

Sam shook his head. "Don' wna move." He mumbled, pale and sweaty.

"I know man. But jush think about how good some fresh air will be. And a bit of quiet. It'll be great."

"... yh. Yh, 'k."

Dean stumbled outside, more than half carrying Sam. He manoeuvred Sam down to sit on a bench across the street. No sooner had Sam sat down than he curled over and began puking over the side of the bench. 

"Aww shit." Dean cursed, shifting to rub Sam's back as he threw up.

"It's okay big man, get it all up." Comforting his brother whilst he was ill reminded Dean of their childhood and a sharp wave of nostalgia swept through him.

"Maybe you were right. Maybe this was a good idea. It's been too long since we hung out man. Guess I gotta make more time for you. Especially when you got a little one. They reckon you need a lot of help with a baby. Dunno what I can do to help, but hey, you want it, you got it Sammy."

Sam gurgled as he vomited. Dean patted his back as he coughed. 

"Why did you think you could outdrink me kiddo? What part of THIS was a good idea? Jess is gonna have your balls." Dean giggled.

Dean gasped, horror spreading over his face. "Jess is gonna have MY balls!"

"She sure is!" An all-too-familiar voice cackled, clapping Dean on the back.

"Charlie! You gave me a heart attack!"

"Well, let your guard down and BOOM. I'm all up in your biz!" Charlie grinned at her friend, the droopy smile of the drunk. "So what are you doing up so late old man?"

"Hey! 'm not OLD. Whatever. Shuddup. Young whippersnapper." Dean grumbled, hamming it up before relenting. "Sam decided we needed some brotherly bonding."

"Of course SAM did. You are far too macho to consider your emotional needs." Charlie ribbed him with a smirk. The grain of truth in it stung a little but her next words chased it quickly from his brain. "Hi Sam! Hey, you know, you don't look so good... How much did you guys drink?"

Whilst Dean had been talking to Charlie, he hadn't noticed that Sam had stopped vomiting and instead, passed out with his head lolling back on his shoulders where he sat on the bench.

"Sam? Sam? Sammy?" Dean asked, shaking his shoulder. Sam didn't wake. 

"Sam?" He tried again.

"Dea...? W'are you doin' here?" Sam mumbled.

"We went out drinking remember?" Dean replied, his brow now furrowed in concern. 

"Oh yeahhh...." Sam blinked sleepily, giggling. His face went blank before he keeled over to the side.

Dean barely caught the toppling tree that was his brother, cursing at the exertion.

"Sammy!" Dean patted his face sharply as he called his name. "Sam. Sammy. Samuel Winchester!"

"Dean?" Sam asked groggily. "Why're y' in m' bed?"

"Oh Christ."

"Dean... I don't think that's normal levels of wasted." Charlie suggested, her voice small with worry. 

"Okay, so... what are you saying? Babysitting him all night while he pukes or...?"

Charlie started tapping at her phone, peering at the bright lights. 

"So... he has a lot of symptoms of alcohol poisoning... And that's just what I've seen in the last two minutes. Dude, I think he might need his stomach pumped."

Dean sighed. "I am gonna be dead long before my nephew is born. Call a cab, I'll grab some cash to bribe the driver."

30 minutes later saw Dean staggering under Sam's weight as they arrived at the ER. Once he had set his brother down and made sure Charlie was okay keeping an eye on him, Dean checked him in with the Receptionist and made a call he had been dreading. 

"Hey Jess. Look, don't freak out but I'm at the ER with Sam..."


End file.
